


we couldn't get closer than this

by AuKestrel



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Slash, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-15
Updated: 2003-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuKestrel/pseuds/AuKestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“As I recall, you said it was a shame to waste–”</p><p>“A good tux on a nice ass, yeah, I know, I know what I said,” Ray says. “Too nice, and if that other guy made one more crack about your armband things I was gonna tie him up with them and shove his–”</p><p>***</p><p>
  <em>Originally published in 2003.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	we couldn't get closer than this

**Author's Note:**

> Been watching the show again and have come to the conclusion, like LaT, for whom the snapshot this came from was originally written, that there's no universe in which these two weren't doing each other. Thanks to Kellie and Kalena for read-through and to Cee for making me laugh.
> 
> For oh-so-many reasons, this is for Denise. She knows why.
> 
> ***

  

we move like caged tigers,    
**we couldn’t get closer than this**  
the way we walk, the way we talk,  
the way we stalk, the way we kiss...

_-lovecats, the cure_  


 

“He _was_. The guy was checking you out, Fraser, don’t even go there with me.”

A small smile plays briefly on Fraser’s lips, there and gone again so quickly in the erratic light of the alley that Ray’s not sure he saw it. He’s not sure he saw it, no; but he knows it was there and he doesn’t really need to have seen it to know it and... Jesus, his head’s in his ass, spinning into that place where one plus one sometimes makes more than two.

“The evening’s choice of... entertainment was yours, Ray,” Fraser says mildly, shifting the jacket slung casually – oh, yeah, casually like a fucking GQ cover boy in Tom Ford  _casually_  – over his left shoulder to fold it over his arm. “As I recall, you said it was a shame to waste–”

“A good tux on a nice ass, yeah, I know, I know what I said,” Ray says. “Too nice, and if that other guy made one more crack about your armband things I was gonna tie him up with them and shove his–”

Fraser stops walking, and Ray turns in time to catch him fingering one of the damned bands with a thoughtful expression on his face, and the rush hits Ray squarely in the gut and spreads lower, fast.

“What? Did you forget where the car was, Mr. Sextant?” he asks, trying to keep the irritation in his voice, because, make no mistake, the guy was checking Fraser out, and Fraser  _was_  enjoying it and Ray... _wasn’t_.

“It’s a shame to waste these bands and your... tie.” The way Fraser says that, and then cuts his eyes at Ray, sends an honest-to-God shiver up Ray’s spine. “That’s ... that’s very true, Ray.”And the way he says it, like Ray’s some kind of genius and Fraser’s just figured it out, spreads a feeling of benison and, yes, pure lust, through Ray’s entire body.

“It is.” Ray takes a step closer to Fraser; Fraser moves backwards a step and ends up slap against the painted brick wall.

“You’re gonna get Huey’s tux all dirty,” Ray says, and he’s surprised to hear his voice gone all husky, because he’s still  _pissed_ and Fraser knows it and Fraser’s pushing his damned buttons all the way to hell and back, starting with the damned shark he let into his (spare) underwear at the start of all this.

Fraser looks surprised, innocent, and knowing, all at the same time somehow, as he glances over his shoulder and then back at Ray. “You’re probably right.”

“Not _probably_ ,” Ray corrects with a scowl. “I’m right. I’m right about that, I was right about Lady Shoes, and I was right about you liking that guy checking you out.”

“I think you mistake,” Fraser says, and there’s a note in his voice that brings Ray in, up close and personal, close enough to smell leftover twist of lime on Fraser’s breath... skin...mouth.

“I do?” Ray asks softly, bracing himself with one hand splayed against the wall behind Fraser’s head, impossibly close to Fraser but still not touching him. “Gonna tell me you didn’t like it?”

Fraser’s tongue curls, long and slow, across his bottom lip, and Ray watches, almost feeling the sharp explosion of lime in his mouth; and his own tongue glides across his lower lip almost before he’s aware of it, tasting himself, imagining the taste of Fraser with a twist instead.

“I liked it for... this,” Fraser says, equally softly, and leans forward the inch that separates them, his breath warm and sweet against Ray’s lips, their mouths separated by molecules of air, bare increments of time and space.

Ray feels a brief flash of surprise –poker, air, tux, club, alley, Fraser – and then no more air, just Fraser’s warm lips on his own, lime and a hint of salt (sweat) and no tequila, just Fraser underneath it all...

Oh yeah, Fraser underneath it all, Fraser’s all there, suddenly, solid and warm against him, back against the wall, hard against it, and Ray hard against Fraser, and that not only seems right, it seems inevitable, somehow, as inevitable as Fraser’s hands moving, one down his back to his ass, one heading in the opposite direction to cradle Ray’s head, holding it at just the right angle.

Ray doesn’t need any more encouragement than that and he licks his way into Fraser’s mouth and takes it, brief grateful astonishment at the thought that  _Fraser’s_ here and Fraser’s  _here_  and Fraser’s kissing him here in a fucking  _alley_... and, oh God, there goes Fraser’s other hand down Ray’s back to cup Ray’s ass with both hands now, pulling Ray closer, and that’s all it takes for Ray to temporarily lose his mind.

He dives for the spot just behind Fraser’s ear as he fumbles between them for the zipper in the tux. Fraser moans and chuckles, somehow at the same time, and tries to pull Ray closer, probably to impede the zipper unfastening process, but the only effect it really has is to spark Ray higher... because all he has to do is feel Fraser’s erection taut under the cloth to forget that they’re in an  _alley_ , for God’s sake, not fifty feet around the corner from the club entrance.

Fraser licks him, hot and determined, distracting Ray from both Fraser’s neck and Fraser’s fly, because Fraser’s tongue is... Ray shudders and even hears himself moan, quiet, but still, unmistakably, a moan, because Fraser’s tongue is talented and right now it’s working on Ray’s jaw, then skittering across his cheek to his mouth, leaving him breathless.

Fraser’s kiss charges the atmosphere around them: Ray wonders if they look like one of those plasma globes, if he stretched a finger out to the wall, or to Fraser, lightning would flash from it. He feels preternaturally aware of everything and knows, with alcohol-enhanced certainty, that he’s at the top of his game, top of his buzz – he spares a small snort for that and Fraser, endearingly, snorts back, a sound closer to a giggle than to a laugh, as he apparently forgets(finally!) where they are and one of the hands on Ray’s ass moves up to and then slips down inside Ray’s waistband.

Calloused fingers, bare flesh: Fraser’s too efficient to go layer by layer. Ray shivers at the heat of those fingers, at the nerve endings suddenly tingling there, like the sweet burn of single malt Scotch, rough and sweet and Ray leans all the way in then, wanting, needing to feel the weight of Fraser’s dick hard against his own.

Fraser makes a sound but Ray doesn’t let him go, just grinds his groin against Fraser’s, and suddenly Fraser’s other hand is inside Ray’s waistband, both hands clutching his ass, pulling him against Fraser, and Fraser’s breathless and moaning and... oh fuck, wild, starting to hump him like there’s no tomorrow, like there’s no alley, like there’s no Lady Shoes, never has been.

Okay, Ray’s not into denial but on the other hand he’s been around that block with Stella one too many times and it’s clear, now, that Fraser was playing Shoes. He _could’ve_  told Ray, hell yeah, ‘cause that’s what partners  _do_  and he and Fraser still gotta have that out, but if Ray’d been shot in the back by his best friend after some chick he thought he loved framed him all the way down into hell and back, well, Ray’s willing to concede that maybe he’d play shit close to the chest too.

This close, he thinks, hazy, happy, jerked – heh – back to reality by a hand on his stomach, bare and warm, pushing, pulling his shirt out of the front of his pants, popping the button, sliding the zipper...

Reality, oh yeah, and he goes after Fraser’s mouth again in a serious way, trying, again, to get his hand between them, reckless in a way he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen and had his hand – oh, yeah, right there, right there...

“God,” Fraser says softly, explosively, and bites down – Jesus! – on Ray’s neck as he tugs, pulls, straightens Ray’s dick out and then starts to move his hand, still humping Ray’s hand at the same time.

Ray lets his head fall back for a brief, glorious second, then pulls himself together enough to finally go after Fraser’s zipper for real, and this time Fraser shifts backward, enough to let the zipper slide down, enough to let Ray’s fingers slide in, feeling starched cotton, searching beneath for–

“God!” Fraser says again, not so soft this time, and his hand tightens hard around Ray.“Ray–”

Ray breathes in, a long, long inhale, trying to imprint all of this on his memory at the same time: the taste of lime and salt on Fraser, the scent of new musk and fresh sweat, the feel, oh, God, the feel of Fraser hard in his hand, hard and warm and, Christ Jesus, already wet.

“Ray!” Fraser whispers, urgent, and suddenly his hands are clamped down hard on Ray’s shoulders as Fraser pants, pulling back, pushing forward, the coat over his arm suddenly slithering onto the pavement with a slurred sound that only registers because it seems to echo the way Fraser’s breathing, fast and shallow and not harsh at all.

“I got you,”Ray breathes. “Fuck, yeah, I got you.”

“Yesss,” Fraser hisses, pushing hard and sure now into Ray’s hand, his hands squeezing Ray’s shoulder in time, like he just gave it all up to Ray, like he’s been tied to the train tracks and Ray’s just cut him loose, like Ray’s the hero.

No hero, Ray thinks wildly, holding onto Fraser’s dick, no hero to Luanne Russell, sure as hell no hero to Shoes, never was a hero to Stella, but here, right now, Fraser’s dick in his hand, Fraser panting and writhing practically underneath him, he feels like a fucking hero, all right, like Loooouuuu Skagnetti, no princess in sight, just Fraser, always Fraser...

“Loooooouuuu Skagnetti,” he whispers, because he can, because it’ll make Fraser laugh again, that giggle that’s so fucking un-Mountie, that giggle that makes him want to wrap Fraser up and take him home for some  _serious_  butt piracy.

And Fraser does laugh, a strained kind of giggle, jumbling words together that sound a lot like Ray’s name and “ _must_  you–” and “please!”

“Yeah,” Ray says, simple answer, really, ’cause it’s not like this is a time for “No.” Or a time for “Have you lost your fucking _mind_?” Well, the answer to that one’s pretty obvious but he’s not gonna think about it now, not gonna think about anything but Fraser fucking flirting with him, flirting over  _air_ , liking Ray jealous in the club, liking _this_...

...a little too much, whoa there –

“Fraser!” he hisses as Fraser stiffens alarmingly.“Slow–”

Fraser groans, crushes his mouth to Ray’s, pushes way too fast into Ray’s hand, his dick slippery-slick...

“Not so fast,” Ray says and slides to his knees. He’s dimly aware of Fraser gaping above him, open mouthed, like a goldfish – ha, would Fraser swallow a goldfish on a dare? – trying to haul him back up, some kind of crap about his suit...

Ray finds Fraser’s feet by instinct, one knee on each, double play: keep Fraser still, save the suit, save the... oh, fuck, save the whales, sharks, whatever, Fraser’s packing a killer whale behind those starched boxers and Ray jerks forward, pushing his own dick into thin air, suddenly imagining that fucking whale, uh, _fucking_  him, Dolphin Boy, and, yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have had that last drink because that’s just fucking  _silly_ , now, Ray...

“Gonna blow you,” he mutters, soft, rapid, hears Fraser’s indrawn breath, assent, yeah, because they’re in that groove now, that thing they do where they just feel, just look, no words, no words now, none except the important ones. “Gonna blow you right now, you take me home and fuck me, Fraser. Blow you, fuck me, deal?”

A cat yowling from another alley drowns out Fraser’s moan but Ray takes it as read, leans in and takes Fraser in too, all the way, one gulp, no goldfish here and way too much too fast but it’s none of it real and he wants to taste Fraser’s salt _here_ , wants to feel Fraser’s weight, heavy, heavy, smooth, hot inside his mouth, wants to know those are Fraser’s hands in his hair now, holding him, holding him, fucking his mouth just... yeah,   _just_  like that.

Oh, man, he wants to hear Fraser moan, wants to hear Fraser moan his name when he comes, when his dick tightens up, when his balls graze Ray’s chin ‘cause they’re so tight and high, when Ray swallows fast, when Fraser’s head hits the brick wall so hard Ray feels the reverb, feels the reverb all the way down to the end of Fraser’s dick, all the way down to that first bitter spurt... He wants to crazy squeeze Fraser, squeeze a lime on Fraser, and he sucks, sucks so hard Fraser’s knees shiver, Fraser shudders, Fraser moans again, another flood cascading down Ray’s throat...

“So fuckin’ hot,” he breathes after he lets Fraser go, after he licks Fraser off, after he makes Fraser squirm – Christ, the shirt’s a goner, probably has holes along with the brick burn – after he makes Fraser laugh, breathless, shaken. “So  _fuckin’_ hot, Benton Fraser...”

“Ray,” Fraser says, tugging at his shoulder. “Ray. Ray!”

Ray can’t resist one last lick, one gentle nip at the end of Fraser’s dick, retreating into the– “You’re not cut,” he says, looking up at Fraser in surprise. “Cool.”

“I was born in a barn,” Fraser says tartly, kind of the same voice Ray’s heard him get when someone asked him about otter-tossing. “My God, Ray.” He shakes Ray again, an impatient can-we- _please_ -concentrate-here kind of shake. “My God.”

Ray pulls himself up, using Fraser’s hip to brace himself, oh yeah, thinks about bracing and moving and hot tight spaces, hard, slick flesh sliding in, pulling out, aww fuck yeah...

“I think you’ve had rather more to drink than – than I realised,” Fraser says, trying to sound in control, but not quite making it.

“Yeah, and I’m so good with that you would not believe, buddy,” Ray says, licking his lips, leaning into kiss Fraser, whose eyes were tracking Ray’s tongue... “Fuck, yeah,” he whispers into Fraser’s mouth, and Fraser jerks a little towards him, then breaks the kiss to pull Ray close, to bury his face in Ray’s neck, to breathe in so loud that, for the first time, Ray casts a nervous glance at the head of the alley. “Uh, maybe–”

“You’re remarkably... good at that, Ray,” Fraser says, almost inaudibly, and Ray feels the heat of Fraser’s skin against his neck, hotter than before, realises with relish Fraser’s blushing.

“So’re you,” he whispers back, tugging at his zipper, his optimistic dick still hard, stubborn about being put away, every touch of his own hand making his nerves sing, beg for it: want some, want some, want some... “So fucking good, c’mon, let’s get your ass home, I’m really gonna die of waiting this time.”

“I – I think I should drive,” Fraser says, fastening his pants while he’s trying to talk around a choke in his voice. “I – Ray–”

“No talk, drive,” Ray says, scooping up Huey’s coat, a little awkward to bend like this but pretty soon he’ll be bent way over, oh fuck yeah, over the couch or up against the wall or holding onto the head board, Jesus, hasn’t been fucked in so fucking long, never been fucked in that bed, always wanted to be, always wondered what the fuck Stella’d have done if he’d ever suggested anything like that. She was pretty wild when they first got together, yeah, but later... later she’d have flipped a lid and probably the finger right after, so asking her to peg him in the ass with a strap-on was just never in the cards. “Fuck’s the car?”

“End of the alley and left,” Fraser says automatically.

“I thought it was right,” Ray says, also automatically, picking up Fraser’s rhythm halfway between consciously and unconsciously.

“You think a great deal too much,” Fraser says roughly, his hand finding Ray’s for a brief, hard squeeze.

“You think?” Ray says amiably, squeezing back. “I think I don’t drink enough. Who knew?”

“Knew what?” Fraser asks, slipping a hand into Ray’s pocket and feeling around without breaking stride.

“Hey, hey, take it easy!”

“Keys,” Fraser says blandly, holding them up.

“How’s about Plan B, Fraser?”

“And that would be–”

“You pull my fucking pants down and fuck me over the hood of the GTO.”

“Ah,” Fraser says faintly, and when Ray glances at him, quick, he sees the whites of Fraser’s eyes. He grins and relents a little.

“Maybe next time, huh.”

“May – perhaps,” Fraser agrees, and swallows noisily. He points out the GTO in evident relief.

Ray tries to be good on the drive home but he’s got something in him tonight, the devil, his mom’d say, Fraser, maybe, the angel on his other shoulder snorts, sounding damn smug. He taps, twitches, sings under his breath, then, finally, when he sees Fraser’s knuckles clenched white on the wheel, asks innocently, “You done this before? Fucked?”

Fraser looks at him, shocked, for so long that Ray grabs the wheel. “Brake, buddy, red light. Yes or no?”

“I, ah, suppose it depends on many things,” Fraser says, almost in a mumble.

“Such as?”

“Such as, ah, definitions. Ray, really, I–”

“Definitions, I can do that, Fraser, old buddy, old pal. You ever fucked a guy up the ass before?”

“Is – is this germane?” Fraser says, his voice sounding like Pudding right before the last stand, right before you swallow it down, silky smooth and...

“We playing footsie for a reason?” Ray says, pushing harder than maybe he should, but there’s the whole “hard” thing and the whole “not soon enough” thing on top of the whole “partners” thing with Shoes, which all boils down to one thing: getting Fraser to fucking admit something, one thing, anything, without fucking having to drag it out of him in half cloth and not quite nothing but certainly not the whole truth, thank you kindly, Ray.

“I’m sorry,” Fraser says after a dead silent three blocks, after Ray’s had time to realise he blurted that whole mess out without fucking  _thinking_ , fucking honesty’s one thing but fucking with Fraser’s feelings is something else again–

“No,” Ray says, too fast, not contrite enough, words spilling from him like excuses instead of apologies. “Fuckin’ tequila, I should know the fuck better and stick to Scotch, Fraser, I’m the one who’s sorry, I’m just rattling your damn cage and that’s not buddies.”

“No,” Fraser says, louder than Ray. “I’m sorry. Let that be the end of it. Please, Ray.”

It’s not that easy, Ray wants to say, feeling his erection wilt even as the words rise. Instead he swallows and nods.

Three more blocks in silence and Ray’s about to ask Fraser if he wants to be dropped off at the Consulate when Fraser says quietly,”It was personal.”

The cop in Ray opens his mouth, argues right away. “You never fucking met her.”

There’s a cold whistling wind in the car, Ray could almost swear to it, when Fraser says, “I think... I thought I knew her... sister.”

It was a brother, Ray thinks, but he doesn’t say it because he knows they’re talking about something else now.

“It was something I needed to do myself,” Fraser says at last, just as they pull into Ray’s parking space. He looks forward for a moment longer, then takes a breath and looks at Ray. “I am sorry, Ray.”

“You ever do it again?” Ray asks, his eyebrows going up, a challenge.

Fraser stares at him for a long time, then sighs. “Probably,” he says finally. “Perhaps. In the – under certain circumstances, I don’t know–”

Inside, Ray’s heart warms suddenly. That’s some trust, anyway, that honesty. Still, tricky hand here and pushing’s no way to win the whole pot. “You want I should take you back to the Consulate?” he asks, trying to sound neutral.

Fraser’s quick-drawn breath sparks hope: he wasn’t expecting that offer.

“I thought...” he begins. Ray waits, waits, nerves strumming, dying of waiting all too scarily real with his dick starting to get heavy again, pushing out an ache between his legs.“I believe you have a substantial IOU of mine,” Fraser says finally, carefully not looking at Ray. “I was raised to believe debts should be honoured.”

“Call it cancelled,” Ray says with a grandiose wave of his hand. “Money and friends don’t mix, that’s what I hear.”

There’s a long silence, so long Ray’d almost call it startled. He waits, his nerves starting to hum. Finally he hears Fraser shift, open his mouth. “As you wish,” Fraser says, but his voice... aw fuck, his voice is all low and smoky-sweet, hickory barbecue drifting on the wind down on Hoover, and Ray feels his hips push up and out, his muscles tensing.

“You take the GTO, huh, I’ll get it from you tomorrow,” Ray says, normal, yeah, normally sliding his hand to the normal door latch.

“Ray?”

“Yeah, Frase?”

“I think you’re a hell of a poker player.”

“About time you admitted it–”

“Ray, I’ve – I have to admit that I’ve wanted to – to _fuck_  you for – for so long,” Fraser says, hotter than hot, more fire than smoke in his voice now.

“Fraser!” Ray yelps as Fraser’s hand closes over the bulge in his crotch. “Not here, not here, Mrs. Kovalczek’ll–”

“On the other hand, I’ve wanted to, ah, taste you for so long–”

“Fuck, fuck was good, I can go with fuck,” Ray says breathlessly, not really sure he’ll go anywhere but into Fraser’s hand in about three seconds. “I didn’t even know you  _knew_  that word.”

“I’m a quick study,” Fraser breathes, yeah, breathes, right in his ear, the only warning Ray has before Fraser’s mouth closes on his, before Fraser’s hand unzips him, uh, handily.

“Jesus,” Ray moans. “Fraser, I’m good for about three more seconds of that. Upstairs, before Mrs. K calls the damn cops.”

“We  _are_  cops, Ray,” Fraser says in such a reasonable-sounding tone of voice that Ray loses it completely, throwing his head back, almost choking from laughing so hard.

“All the more reason,” he says, when he can,”not to be found with your hand around my dick. C’mon, Fraser, don’t tell me you don’t wanna get naked.”

“God,” Fraser says huskily. Ha, Fraser reduced to mono – mono – not nucleotides, no, not syllabi...

“One syllable, one syllable,” he says, knowing Fraser’ll get it, and Fraser does.

“Monosyllabic?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ray says grandly. “Exactly. You’re a hot monosyllabic, Frase.”

He makes a note about what turns Fraser on about three seconds later when Fraser dunks his head into Ray’s lap. The first touch of warmth, wet lips parting and then closing around him, and Ray gives in and grabs onto Fraser’s head, trying not to push up, no real clue if Fraser knows his way around a stick. The first suck and his head falls back because the rest of his body’s too busy trying to climb inside Fraser’s mouth to hold it up. He snaps back up, sees a light go on in, fuck, in that damned busybody’s apartment.

“Fraser, Jesus,” he gasps. “Lights, c’mon, she’ll be taking out the garbage next, any excuse. C’ _mon_!”

Fraser does some kind of swirl thing with his tongue that nearly makes Ray’s eyes fall out, then lifts his head. Ray whimpers, can’t help it, that felt so good, he’s so hard, Fraser’s mouth is... Jesus, _Fraser’s_  mouth wrapped around  _his_  dick is too damn cool for school.

“All right,” Fraser says, and Ray’s only consolation is that his voice isn’t any steadier than his hand as he tries to tidy Ray away.

Ray bats at his hands. “I’m good, leave it,” he says gruffly.“Keys, get the keys, jacket, let me have the jacket.” He bundles the jacket in his lap before he gets out of the car, but even the breeze that makes it through the cloth doesn’t back him down much, Jesus, he hasn’t been this ready to go since... since, wow, since... no, no, no, no fair, brain cries foul and Ray sends the batter to the box, enough’s enough.

Halfway to the door he realises no one’s following him. “Fraser,” he hisses, snapping his fingers over his shoulder. There’s a scuffle of gravel, slam of a car door, and then Fraser’s behind him, one hand reaching out for Ray’s shoulder.

“Touch me and I’ll cream Huey’s jacket,” Ray mutters. Fraser gasps, a sharp noise, and Ray has the feeling that Fraser’s finally back on the page with him again.

They make Ray’s door without encountering Mrs. Kovalczek, and Ray’s breathing a silent prayer of thanks– one look at Fraser’s enough to make him hard enough to pound nails, and there’s no way even a little old lady wouldn’t just _smell_  the sex dripping off Fraser right now – while he fumbles with his key ring. Fraser didn’t even try, just handed the keys to Ray, no comments at all about labels or organizing, oh no, just handed ‘em over, staring at Ray the whole time, hungry, his eyes liquid, his lips shiny... shiny from Ray’s dick, oh fuck... Finally the key slides home and he turns it, pushes the door open, almost falling through it.

Fraser’s right behind him, kicks the door closed, first try, and for some reason that’s hotter than anything else, that backwards kick, like the door’s irrelevant, like the world’s irrelevant, like all that matters is closing the door on the world and getting, oh yeah,   _finally_  naked on someone’ _s_  ass. Which is the first thing, getting  _his_  ass naked, and he kicks off his shoes, strips off his pants and his socks, doesn’t even wait to watch ‘em land.

He gets Fraser backed up against the door for another deep kiss while he starts on the damn studs. Fraser’s not much help: he’s fumbling with Ray’s tie, tugging completely the wrong way first, a horrified murmured apology then and the constriction is loosened, but Ray hardly notices it, spares a grin ’cause undressing a guy’s harder than a chick, the buttons don’t work right, it figures the tie’s backwards too.

Finally, finally, gets Fraser’s shirt undone, pulled off his shoulders, damned muscle shirt under it, what the fuck... “Off,” he growls,”off, off,   _off_!”

Fraser grunts, tugs, and there’s a heap of white at their feet, suddenly, and Ray’s staring at... wow, naked expanse of Fraser, never seen so much of Fraser’s skin in his life. “Christ,” he says, almost afraid to touch: is it a dream, maybe he’s gonna wake up in ten seconds to the stupid morning show on the album rock station. “Never saw so much of you,” he says, his brain buzzing high on the rest of the alcohol. “Fuck.”

Fraser doesn’t waste time with words, just grabs Ray’s shirt and tugs it off. “Touch me,” he says fiercely. “Touch me.”

Ray takes a breath, reaches out with a finger, still half-expecting the radio to go on any second, presses it to the base of Fraser’s collarbone, most he’s ever seen of Fraser up ’til now. Fraser breathes in, a ragged shudder of a sound, like Ray’s finger is fire, but he doesn’t make a move. Ray spans one pec with his fingers, feeling the nipple hard under the heel of his hand, and Fraser’s head hits the door hard. Ray looks up, surprised: Fraser’s eyes are shut tight, his bottom lip caught in his teeth, and for a whole minute Ray forgets to breathe. Or, at least, it feels like it when he finally feels air in his lungs again, like he was drowning, gasping for air, and suddenly he can breathe again, lightheaded with relief.

He steps closer, feels the heat from Fraser all the way down to his dick, swinging between them, and puts his other hand across Fraser’s other nipple.

“Ray,” Fraser says in a voice that sounds like the cat dragged him in,”if you’re trying to make  _me_  die of waiting...”

“Don’t know where to start,” Ray whispers. “Priorities, good things to have, bad time to try to learn ‘em, Fraser.” And then he leans in fast, before Fraser can come up with a sensible answer to that crap, and licks Fraser all the way from the hollow at the base of his throat up to his left ear.

It happens so fast he literally doesn’t see it. One second Fraser’s moaning under his tongue, the next his back’s against the door and Fraser’s mouth is hard on his, dick hard against his, and this–

“So fucking good,” he moans, grabbing Fraser with both hands, right back to where this all started, humping his dick up against Fraser’s leg. “’s it, Fraser...”

“Yeah,” Fraser says. “So... oh, God, Ray... this... this isn’t... isn’t fair...”

Ray just shuts his eyes tight, moves against Fraser’s dick again, arches his back so he can feel Fraser naked against him, almost naked, getting there, anyway.

“Bed?” he gasps, hands curling in Fraser’s hair when Fraser leans down to lick him, tonguing a nipple almost casually.

“Yes,” Fraser says, fierce again. “I need... I want you somewhere I can touch you.”

Touch, Fraser said touch, Ray’s brain tries to catch up, and he reaches for Fraser’s nipples again, touching them lightly, feather light, feeling Fraser shudder under his hands. Oh, that’s good, that’s really damn good, making Fraser moan just like that, and Ray gets bolder, unfastens Fraser’s pants, pushes them down, grabbing Fraser’s ass on the way to off off _off_.

“Bed!” Fraser sounds desperate; takes everything Ray has not to sink to his knees again, finish him off again, taste him again. So Ray pushes at him, trying to get him to start walking. Takes Fraser a minute or so, and then he’s walking too, one hand on Ray’s ass, one on his shoulder.

Halfway to the bedroom they lose it: Fraser grabs Ray around the chest, pulls him backwards against him, and Ray nearly comes then and there when he feels Fraser’s erection tight against his ass. “Yes!” he says, not sure what the question was, if there even was a question.

“Yes,” Fraser echoes, hoarse, grabbing Ray around the waist and pushing up against him, and God if  _that_  doesn’t feel just about perfect, Fraser’s dick slipping into the crack of his ass, slipping, sliding, a little wetter now, pushing harder.

Ray fumbles for the doorframe, wonders if that’s his heart pounding in his ears or Fraser’s dick, unable to entirely believe that’s Fraser, _Fraser_  standing stiff legged behind him, Fraser’s legs warm and hairy between Ray’s, kneeing Ray’s legs apart, Fraser’s hands on Ray’s waist now, pushing and straining against Ray’s ass, not quite enough to hurt, not near enough to satisfy. But Fraser doesn’t seem to know where he is, what he’s doing: he drops his head down betweenRay’s shoulder blades, murmuring shit Ray can’t make out, moaning between the words, all the time rubbing the head of his dick right... fucking... _there_...

“Ah, God, too much,” Fraser says, his voice a ragged tear across the fabric of Ray’s reality, and then suddenly the pressure is gone, Fraser’s gone, and Ray starts to turn, to panic: what the _fuck_ –

– and then he feels Fraser’s hands on his hips again, sliding around, pulling his ass apart, oh God, fingers touching him there... no, not fingers, that’s the rasp of stubble on a chin, that’s... that’s Fraser’s goddamned _tongue_ , licking across him like – oh, God, like Ray’s the lime, Ray’s the salt and tequila, that wicked tongue so damned good, so right, right there, oh God – “Right there!” he gasps, pushing up against the wall, pushing back against Fraser, trying to  _sit_  on Fraser’s goddamned tongue, goddamned face, wanting more, now, more... “More!” he says fiercely. “ _God_ , Fraser...” 

Then Fraser’s licking his way up Ray’s ass, up Ray’s back, stopping to nibble, bite, lick the muscle where Ray’s back stops and his ass starts, stopping to kiss one particular vertebrae, stopping, finally, at Ray’s left shoulder blade, where his tongue and his teeth combine to almost make Ray fucking _shoot_ into thin _air_ , isn’t that how all this got started, over air?

“Ray,” Fraser rumbles, the word vibrating against Ray’s back, like it came out of Fraser and went straight through to the centre of Ray’s being,”Ray... Ray!”

“Fraser,” he pants, not sure what Fraser wants, his attention, his car, his ass, whatever, whatever it is, it’s his.

“This is...”

“This is  _so_ good,” Ray says, trying to turn, but Fraser’s got him pulled right up close against him again, his dick riding low between Ray’s thighs, his face buried in Ray’s neck. “So good,” Ray repeats, shoving his ass backwards so Fraser gets the message.

Yeah, Fraser got the message already, Ray feels his dick slide up again, catching over his hole, wet and thick and Ray can’t keep himself from shivering as he pushes back, trying to make Fraser take him, trying to take Fraser in.

“Ray!” Fraser says, his voice gone high. “I – I can’t – you’re not–”

“Try me,” Ray pants. “Oh, God, Fraser, try me!”

“That would be the other problem,” Fraser says, pulling back, pushing in again, like he can’t help himself, but sounding amazingly like himself, under the – “Under the circumstances – Christ, Ray! – I don’t think I’ll–”

“Fraser, think before, after, whatever, fuck _now_!”

Then Fraser’s hands are back around Ray’s chest, dick snug up against Ray’s ass again, and even as Ray moves against it, triumphant, Fraser manhandles them to the bed, frog marching Ray, and Ray’d laugh if he wasn’t so busy trying to coax Fraser’s dick into his ass on the way.

“You’d better – God, Ray – better have some –  _some_ thing to, ah – Ray!”

Lube. Lube. Fraser’s gonna be talking about “facilitating matters” in about point three seconds if Ray doesn’t head him off at the pass. He gropes for the drawer, fumbles a mostly empty tube of leftover KY out of it – stuff doesn’t go bad, right? And, oh yeah, Mr. “Five P’s” just gave himself away in a big way, knows what the fuck to do and how to do it, even if he won’t come out and say it.

“Lube!” he growls. “Now  _damn_  it, Fraser, fuck–”

“ _Fuck_ ,”Fraser overrides him, his voice harsher now, reasonable-sounding completely gone, one hand leaving Ray’s hip, the other still holding him pressed close. Ray feels the tube against his back, suddenly, cold, realises Fraser’s got the tube in his teeth while he wrestles the cap off, ‘cause he doesn’t want to let go of Ray, and damn if that doesn’t melt Ray’s heart and stoke his fires all at the same time, and he forgets the cold and just presses back, trying to help Fraser get the cap off now now  _now_!

The cap goes flying, Ray’s pretty sure he’ll never find it, pretty sure he doesn’t care, pretty sure that tube’s going into the Ray Kowalski Fucking Hall of Fame just as soon as Fraser’s done pounding his ass so caps are just fucking  _immaterial_.

Then the tube drops onto the bed, Fraser’s hand’s between them, slick slicking his dick, pushing some into Ray’s ass, his fingers shaking a little. Ray pushes back on them and Fraser gasps; Ray doesn’t care, this is all his wet dreams rolled into one fucking incredible man about to do some fucking incredible things to Ray’s ass right here on Ray’s bed.

“It doesn’t even have to be incredible,” he says, laughing out loud from the sheer unbelievable joy of it all.

Fraser, amazingly, laughs too.“Thank you for – for taking the pressure off,” he says, panting slightly. “Because I don’t think I’ll–”

“Don’t think,” Ray pants back, pushing again. “That’s your first mistake.”

Fraser pushes back this time, finally, and Ray’s knees buckle, right onto the bed. Fraser’s right behind him, pushing his knees between Ray’s thighs, holding Ray’s hips at – oh God –  _just_  the right angle, finally, pushing in, pulling back, pushing, pulling back, pushing, finally, in, just enough... Ray’s fingers tighten on Fraser’s arms but Fraser’s got him, pulling him back against Fraser’s chest, solid and warm, and Fraser’s got his tongue in Ray’s ear, muttering warm dark things, not pushing now, just giving Ray time to get used to it.

Used to it.  _Used_  to it. To Fraser... Fraser in his ass... He moans, unexpectedly, and Fraser’s arms tighten around him, pulling him back closer, back and down and... whoa... Fraser just slid in a little more and... he feels the air cold across his teeth as he inhales sharply, tightening instinctively against the burn.

Suddenly Fraser’s hand flattens on his chest and Fraser’s head drops to Ray’s shoulder. He hears Fraser panting, a noisy, needy sound, even as he feels Fraser try to pull back, pull out, relieve the pressure. No, no, wrong way,   _wrong_  way, Fraser, and Ray reaches around for Fraser’s ass, pushing back, pulling Fraser towards him again.

“Take it slow,” Fraser grits out. “Ray...”

“Done with slow, done with safe, done with waiting,” Ray hisses. “Come _on_!” He corkscrews his hips for emphasis, something he forgot he remembered until just now, and that works, oh, yeah, Fraser’s halfway there and Ray hardly felt it this time. He pulls forward, pushes back, corkscrews again, wonders how the hell Fraser’s staying so damned _still_. When he feels the fine tremor of Fraser’s muscles under his hand he realises it’s so Fraser won’t  _come_ , and that pumps his dick right back up to full _just_  like that, that and the realisation that those are Fraser’s  _balls_  he feels underneath, Fraser’s _hair_  he feels brushing his ass...

“Ray,” Fraser says, moving a shaky hand down his chest, across his stomach, down to his hip,”Ray...”

“’m _good_ ,” Ray says hoarsely, throwing his head back onto Fraser’s shoulder, twisting so he can lick Fraser, taste Fraser, Fraser twisting too, suddenly, and kissing Ray, kissing him hard even as he starts to move a little, rocking back and forth. Ray murmurs encouragement, rocking too, a little harder, a little faster, until Fraser has both hands on Ray’s hips and is holding him, bracing both of them, moving in and out, steady and slow, slower than Ray thought anyone could, and suddenly Ray’s grateful for the alley for more reasons than the obvious, oh yeah, ‘cause Fraser...Fraser’s going in slow and deep, Fraser’s going in over and over, Fraser... Fraser  _knows_  his shit, man, knows his way around an asshole, and he’s not gonna pound Ray’s ass, he’s just gonna fuck it, deep and slow, until Ray’s mindless and screaming and nothing but a puddle of _come_  on the bed, a panting, sweating _mess_...

And, now, finally Fraser’s gonna pound Ray’s ass, no mercy now, pound it hard, but not for long, because even Iron Mountie can’t hold out that long, even with a blow job to take the edge off, and not long after that Fraser’s a puddle of come in Ray, shooting hard and making sounds Ray’s never thought to dream of, calling Ray things that’ll make Ray blush tomorrow, make Fraser blush harder, but it’s all... it’s _all_  good now.

First thing Fraser says, breathless, almost starts Ray’s motor up again then and there, is,”You’re going to be so sore.”

“So fucking sore,” Ray says hazily. “Don’t you fucking  _move_.” He grabs Fraser’s arm, pulls it under his chest so Fraser can’t move, feels Fraser put his head down with a wry little chuckle, and lets himself fall asleep, just like that, surrounded by Fraser instead of air, ‘cause who needs air when you got the real thing?

  
_Hand in hand is the only way to land  
And always the right way round..._


End file.
